I was traveling with a multilingual? Well, who knew.

The lady behind the counter looked Asian, so imagine my reaction when Raine started dishing out the Vietnamese like a native.

The woman’s countenance changed emotions immediately. She smiled a wide, toothy grin, and clasped her hands in evident happiness. She chimed out a sentence in Vietnamese, and pointed down the corridor.

Raine nodded his head and thanked her, and then wove his arm through mine and led me down one of the halls in Dublin Airport.

Scooter was suspiciously silent, so I looked into his cage. He had fallen asleep.

“See? Piece of cake,” Raine said, grinning wolfishly.

“No! Not a piece of cake!” I cried, slightly resisting his hold. “Where did you learn Vietnamese?”

“It’s in my line of work to speak many languages.”

“So you know more than that?”

He stared at me for a while, and I could see he was having an internal battle. Finally, he spoke.

“Don’t ask.”

Doesn’t that seem to be the answer to everything lately?